


on mourning a love you never had

by androgynousmikewheeler



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Freshman Year, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Mike Wheeler, Post-Season/Series 03, Trans Mike Wheeler, so there’s some of that, some very fun gender and sexuality confusion, y’all know these kids are traumatized
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousmikewheeler/pseuds/androgynousmikewheeler
Summary: With nearly a thousand miles between them, Will and Mike try to put behind the feelings they can’t deal with or even understand. But when new friends are met and new feelings arise, how will they accept both the past and the present?
Relationships: (but both of those final two are very minor), Dustin Henderson/Suzie, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Mike Wheeler, Joey Kim/Lucas Sinclair, Mike Wheeler/Original Male Character(s), Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Will Byers/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	1. on diners and dungeons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alteritymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteritymonster/gifts).



Mike pulls a doubtful Sydney Mills through the glass door of the Palace Arcade after their friends. Max races Dustin to Dig Dug in a mad dash, red hair streaming and brown curls bouncing. She grabs the console and gives an animal call of victory. Dustin flips her off and takes his place beside her as she inserts a quarter. Joey Kim follows Lucas to Dragon’s Lair, inspecting the neon lighting of the low-ceilinged room as he listens to Lucas ramble about animation styles. As Lucas settles behind the controls, Joey’s eyes linger on the reflections of the lights on his dark skin.

Sydney laughs. “So, this is where the cool kids hang out and,” he sends a scathing look at the rest of the party, “make moon eyes at each other?”

Mike watches Dustin jostle at Max, who expertly avoids his elbows. “Yeah, that’s not happening. There was a whole weird love triangle thing going on for a while, but now Dustin’s got a girlfriend in Utah. Max is single, though.”

Syd looks at Mike carefully. “I wasn’t talking about those two.”

“Oh!” Mike scans the rest of the arcade, looking for a couple and not finding one. She turns back to Syd. “Who _are_ you talking about?”

He scratches behind his ear. “Lucas and Joey.”

Mike coughs. “What? They’re not— Lucas isn’t— He dated Max.”

Syd stares at his feet. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean. I just figured, you know, Joey’s gay, they hang out a lot, so…”

“Just because Troy says—”

Syd shakes his head. “Yeah, but Joey said it.” Mike doesn’t know how to interpret the rush of warmth in her chest mingling with an uncomfortable twist of her stomach. “You didn’t know? He’s pretty vocal about it. I found out on about the third day of school.”

“Oh.” Mike considers her own shoes, sneakers slowly accumulating scuff marks. “So, him and Lucas…”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess I was misreading things.”

“Things? What are things?”

“Man, I—” he throws his hands up, “how they talk, the way they look at each other…” 

_Will’s desperately toggling the controls of Pac-Man, seconds away from beating his record, and Mike can’t seem to focus on the game. She traces the angles of his cheeks with her gaze, watches his eyes dart across the screen, his nose crinkling in concentration. An eyelash trembles on his cheek, of which he takes no notice._

_He mutters under his breath, a nonsensical thread of, “move… damn it… I’m gonna kill you, you obnoxious little bastard…” slowly building in volume to, “you little pie fuck, I’m gonna… SHIT!” He slams his palms against the console as Pac-Man makes its robotic whine of death. His hair flops in his eyes as he throws his head forward, Mike reveling in the rare outburst. Eventually, Will abandons glaring at the machine and catches Mike looking at him._

_She blushes and turns away. “Sorry. Zoning out.”_

_He smiles up at her, something in his eyes that Mike tells herself she can’t identify. “What’s going on up there, Sir Mike?”_

_The nickname comes with its standard wave of conflicting emotions, but she just says, “You have an eyelash.”_

_“Oh.” Will’s eyes flash with disappointment and his wrist swipes at the wrong cheek._

_Mike giggles. “Nope. Here, let me.” She tries to ignore the warm rush as her thumb traces his cheekbone, studiously avoiding the infinitesimal movement of her eyes that would meet his. But she feels him looking at her, knows the soft smile better than she knows her own._

_She pulls away, eyelash on her thumb, and shows it to him, finally allowing eye contact without the vulnerability of touch. “Make a wish.”_

“Right,” Mike says, “I don’t think it’s a… you know…”

“Gay thing?” Syd supplies. Mike nods. “I didn’t mean anything. Just thinking. Sorry.”

For a moment, they stew in the uncomfortable lull, games beeping and whirring around them. Syd taps his foot and scratches at his neck. Mike watches him from the corner of her eye, because if Joey’s gay, and Syd’s cool with it, Syd’s still friends with him, maybe Syd is also… could he and Mike… 

She studies him, with his dirty blond hair and wire rings and fingernails that Mike would swear bear clear gloss. She knows that you aren’t supposed to use “dainty” or “pretty” to describe a boy, but they fit Syd’s delicate facial structure and long eyelashes. 

As she considers those lashes, trying to decide if she’s insane for thinking he’s wearing mascara, Syd meets her eye and they both turn away, as if caught in a sin. 

“So,” she mutters, cheeks flushed, “any games you want to play?”

As Syd scans the noisy machines, his stomach rumbles. He grimaces. “Well, that was cute. Sorry, I haven’t eaten yet today.”

Mike glances at the clock, which sets the time at nearly five in the evening, but doesn’t mention it. “There’s a diner three doors down if you’re hungry.”

He shoots Mike a guilty look, but the hunger in his eyes is palpable. “I don’t want to ditch your friends. Plus, you wanted to play, right?”

She shrugs. “It’s cool. Trust me, they’ll be here for hours; we’ve got time to grab food.” She holds up a few crinkled bills. “Plus, there are perks to spending my Sundays washing dishes.”

Syd grins. “Food sounds good, then.”

She matches the grin and ushers him back out the door. The autumn evening is cool, Mike grateful for her baby pink sweater, and some part of her feels like a girl on a first date. She tries to ignore that part. 

Syd clears his throat. “Hey, thanks for inviting me. And then ditching with me. And just in general being friends with the new kid.” Mike’s pretty sure he’s blushing. She might be too. 

“No problem. An old friend just moved to a new school, and I hope someone’s doing the same for him.”

Syd hums in acknowledgement as they turn a corner into the setting sun. “So, what’s the name of this person I’m replacing?”

Mike’s smile is soft and bittersweet. “Will Byers. We’ve been friends since kindergarten. And his sister, Eleven.”

“Her name is Eleven?”

“Yeah, she’s adopted. Anyway, you’re not replacing either of them.” Mike’s head fills with the possibilities of Syd as replacement, Syd taking on their roles in her life, if she could just figure out what exactly those were. Best friend? Date? Crush?

As they enter the diner, redone in 1950s nostalgia after the success of _Grease,_ Sydney interrupts the lull with, “One, do you want to share some nachos?”

Mike considers for a moment before nodding. Syd grins. “Great. Two, which is much more important, have you read _The Lord of the Rings_?”

Mike shakes her head. “I know the plot, though, and I read _The Hobbit._ Bilbo’s fun.”

Syd exhales with a soft frustrated grunt as Mike waves at the waitress reading a magazine behind the counter. “Okay, we’ll fix that. You absolutely have to meet Sam and Frodo. Best dynamic I’ve ever read, hands down.”

“Frodo is Bilbo’s nephew, right?” 

He nods. The waitress ushers them into a red leather booth and tosses them menus, which Mike hands back to her with a request for nachos and sodas. 

She sends them her best customer service smile before sashaying into the kitchen. Syd takes a deep breath and launches into a full speed rant. “He’s so much more than that, though. Some people argue about who the real savior of Middle Earth is—”

“Wait,” Mike interrupts, “I thought it was Frodo.” She grimaces. “I really never understand what Dustin is talking about.”

“Well, yeah, he is. But some people argue that Sam is, because Frodo could never have destroyed the ring without Sam’s help, but,” he leans across the booth, hands waving with excitement, “that’s the _best part!_ Neither of them could have done it without the other. Frodo saved Middle Earth, but Sam saved Frodo! I mean—”

_“Will, come on!” Dustin urges, hands clenching the game table of Mike’s basement, “It’s just an NPC, you don’t need to save every damn character!”_

_Lucas laughs. “Like you wouldn’t save Lady Shoshannah. He has spent,” he groans, “_ so much _of our game time romancing this damn orc.”_

_Dustin pushes at him. “Don’t encourage him! Will, you’re gonna kill off Will the Wise if you don’t leave her!”_

_“Them,” Mike corrects._

_“When will you guys remember we didn’t give Nazgev a gender?” Will agrees. “Jeez!”_

_Dustin glares. “We can discuss the gender of your orc fiancée after you leave her for dead and save yourself.”_

_“Way to sell it, Dustin. Good job.” Lucas gives Dustin a cheeky smirk._

_Dustin sticks out his tongue. “Oh, because you’ve been so helpful. Do you want our party to die or—“_

_“I’m not doing it,” Will mutters._

_The rest of the Party turns to him. “What?” they chorus._

_“I cast heal wounds on Nazgev and push them to safety.” Lucas and Dustin groan._

_Mike’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure you wanna do that?”_

_Will nods. “D20?”_

_She grimaces. “If you’re positive. It will take up your turn.”_

_“I know.” He rolls the die, red plastic tumbling from his fingers to reveal an 18._

_Mike clears her throat. “You succeed. Nazgev’s wounds are healed, and their eyes open to look at you one last time before you push them away, out of the cave and into the sunlight. The look on their face is one of anguish, of grief, of loss. But it is also one of acceptance, and gratitude, and most importantly, love.”_

_Will smiles. “Do I have time to say something?”_

_“Sure.”_

_He meets Mike’s eyes and for a moment, she forgets he isn’t really talking to her. “Be happy,” he says, “It is enough to know I loved you the best way I knew how.”_

_Mike swallows back a lump in her throat. “Their face is the last thing you see before the mountain crumbles down around you, tears streaming across their green cheekbones. What’s your armor score?”_

_“Seventeen.”_

_Mike rolls a die and winces. “The rocks crush you. I’m afraid Will the Wise is dead.”_

_“God damn it, Will!” Dustin yells._

_Will shrugs, gaze still fixed on Mike. “He did what he had to do for the person he loved. It’s okay.”_

“The amount of devotion in their dialogue just drives me… Mike?” Syd’s rant crawls to a halt as he waves his hand in front of Mike’s face. “Earth to Mike, do you copy?”

Mike blinks and shakes her head. “Sorry. Reminded me of a D&D campaign. Continue.”

Sydney groans, then gives an apologetic look to the waitress, who gives them their food and a disdainful look. “Oh, come on! You’re a Dungeons and Dragons nerd? I’m sorry, it’s against my morals to be friends with someone who worships such a flagrant rip-off of Tolkien’s work.”

Mike scoffs and smacks the table. “Rip-off? You come on! Have you never heard of an homage?”

Syd rolls his eyes. “Homage! Wow, I think I’ll use that one if I ever get busted for copying someone’s test. It’s straight plagiarism!”

“Everything is plagiarism! Tolkien’s probably plagiarizing someone!”

Syd narrows his eyes and hums, throaty and annoyed. “Well, I don’t know about plagiarizing…”

Mike raises her eyebrows. “Continue.”

He grimaces. “But there’s a definite _Beowulf_ homage.”

Mike laughs. “Oh, I see! Now we get to use homage, when it suits you.”

Syd sticks his tongue out and reaches across the table to snag a nacho. “Trust me,” he says, trying to keep the cheese from dripping down his fingers...

_Will’s hand sneaks from his own food towards Mike’s. She pretends not to see it in the dim lighting of the parking lot, opening her ketchup packet with a pointed focus. As his fingers close around a fry, she lurches forward and sprays his hand with the ketchup._

_“Eughh,” he groans, dropping the fry and considering his dripping red hand with disgust._

_Mike grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, and laughs. “Gotcha!”_

_“That’s so gross, Mike.”_

_“That’s what happens when you steal my fries all the time!” She grabs one and chews it victoriously._

_Will flips her off before a grin of his own appears. “So, if this is the punishment for kindly sharing food…”_

_“Repetitive and criminal theft—“_

_“Then we must remember that you steal my soda every single time I get it.”_

_Her eyes widen. “Will, don’t you dare—“_

_He grabs her half-full can and pours it over her head, bubbles cascading over her spluttering form. A shard of ice slides down the back of her neck and her face and shoulders are sticky. Her button up clings to her skin. She shakes her head like a dog, nostrils flared._

_“William Byers, you asshole!” She lunges across the asphalt at him, dripping soda all over his clothes, and he cackles as she tackles him, an overwhelming mix of laughter and dissipating carbonation and his skin against hers._

“I’m not happy about this either. It’s not my fault Tolkien had a thing for old English and the evolution of storytelling.”

“How can you talk about the evolution of storytelling while dissing a radical new storytelling medium? I spy a hypocrite.”

“Oh, bite me!” Syd rolls his eyes, light blue reflecting the neon red “open” sign in the window. Mike laughs, but there’s a dangerous yearning in her chest as she settles in for another rambling speech. 

She really doesn’t want to know what that means. But she wonders anyway. 


	2. on papers and proposals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syd visits the Wheeler home to work on a school project. The hard questions have nothing to do with biology.

“Now, if we’re lucky,” Mike says, “my mom is still out picking up Holly.”

“Why are we hiding from your mom?” Syd asks, his voice gentle and concerned. “Is everything okay there?”

“Oh, no, not like that. She’s just a busybody.” She pushes the front door open with a loud squeak.

“Hey, Michael, how was school?” her mother’s voice calls from the kitchen.

Mike groans. “Hey, Mom.” She ushers Sydney inside and shoves him towards the basement stairs, words tumbling from her mouth at double speed. “Sydney, this is my mom. Mom, meet Sydney. We’re doing a bio lab together, and we really need to get to work. Great seeing you, bye!” She yanks him down the first few steps before Karen’s voice catches up to them.

“Hold your horses,” she calls, “I want to meet your new friend.”

Mike rolls her eyes emphatically as she follows Syd back up the stairs. He stretches his hand out to Karen. She gives him her hand and he kisses it. Mike gags.

“Michael, just because you don’t have any manners—”

“Not at all, Mrs. Wheeler,” Syd says, “your son’s been quite the gentleman, taking the new kid under his wing and all.”

She squirms at the title of son but smiles through her discomfort. Karen reaches out to ruffle her hair. “There’s the good kid I raised.”

“ _Mom_ ,” she groans, “can you not?”

“And there’s the grumpy teenager.” She rolls her eyes in a move Syd marks as eerily similar to Mike. “Can I get you guys something to eat?”

“Do we have any soda?” 

“You know, it would not hurt you to eat a vegetable.” 

Mike sticks out her tongue.

“Do you have any carrots?” Syd asks. “Or snap peas?”

Karen smiles. “You should bring this one over more.” She pulls two bags out of the refrigerator, one of peas and one of carrots, and pours some of each into a bowl.

“Suck up!” Mike hisses behind her back. 

Syd flips her off and turns back to her mom. “Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler!” The smile he gives her is just a little longing.

“We really should get to our lab. See ya, Mom!” She succeeds this time in dragging Sydney down into the basement, vegetables in tow.

“What was _that?_ ” she says as she flops onto the couch, backpack in hand.

“What was _what?_ Your mom seems cool.”

“What part of nagging us to eat vegetables is cool?”

Syd shrugs and pulls his binder from his own bag. “I don’t know. It’s cool that she’s here enough to notice what you eat. Junk food every day isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” His focus on his papers is unrivaled, hair nearly hiding his blush.

“Oh,” Mike says, “I guess so.”

“Do you want the graph or the write up?” He spreads their papers across the table with a pointed avoidance of Mike’s eyes.

“I’ll do the write up. I suck at drawing.”

“Cool.” He takes the graph paper and pushes the rest towards her. He sets quickly to work, Mike following shortly after.

Several sentences later, she finds herself tapping a pencil against her lip, searching for the right term. Her eyes fall on Sydney, bent over his work.

Mike watches the gentle movements of his fingers across the cross-hatched paper, slight hands moving in delicate, artistic sweeps. She smiles, warmth pooling in her chest with a soft familiarity. With his hair, darker in the dim basement, falling in front of his face, there’s an odd similarity to Will. 

Syd looks up from his graph abruptly and meets Mike’s eyes. She turns back to her write up, embarrassed at being caught in this trespass. “How— how’s the graph going?” she asks.

Syd is quiet for a moment and then blurts, “Can I ask you something?”

Mike quirks her head at him. “Yeah, sure. But if it has to do with slope, we’re both in trouble.”

“Are you gay?” He launches the words from between his lips, as if that’s the only way they’ll get out, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in abandoned self-protection.

Mike just blinks at him. She’s not gay, right? She dated Eleven, kissed Eleven, loved Eleven; that’s not something gay guys do. But then… _Grabbing Will’s hand just to remind herself that they’re both still there. Chasing his smile when it became so rare. The best thing she’s ever done. Memorizing the moles dotting his skin. Crazy together. Tracing his drawings with her fingers like a devotion. His eyes as he said, not possible. Hours spent by his side, riding bikes and reading comics and playing games. Holding him as he cried into her shoulder, letting him hold her. Knowing that there was someone out there that understood her, every single part…_ Oh, shit.

Mike comes back to awareness to see Syd grimacing at her, fear and disappointment crossing his face, mid-ramble that Mike seems to have missed the beginning of.

“...sorry, I didn’t mean any insult. I’ll go, and um, I’ll ask Mr. James if we can get new lab partners. Just… please don’t tell anyone. I know it’s—”

Mike reaches out to lay a hand over his. He flinches back and lapses into silence. “I am.”

“What?”

Mike laughs, harsh and uncertain. “I think I am… you know, into guys. Which I kind of realized about four seconds ago. Give me a second.” She catches the beginning of a very confused look before burying her face in her hands, elbows on her knees, rocking slightly. Her breath is fast and shallow, but her mind is full of Will, Will, Will.

_She sits in the uncomfortable hospital chair, struggling to find an angle for her neck that doesn’t hurt, refusing to look away from Will, so small in his baggy hospital gown, dark circles around his eyes. Mike’s bound to have a matching set soon, because she doesn’t know how to sleep with a cold vice of worry around her stomach. What if Will needs something, what if they’re in danger, what if she’s helpless to save him again?_

_And what if the danger isn’t something to be fought, isn’t something that slingshots or guns or telekinesis can stop? What if it’s inside Will, poisoning him, body and mind, and there’s absolutely nothing Mike can do?_

_Why can’t she just wrap him up and carry him away, carry him somewhere safe, where they can be alone? She just wants to be alone with him, hold him tight, kiss his gaunt cheeks until the fears slip away—_

_Okay… that was kind of gay. Not that she’s gay or anything. Right?_

Wrong, apparently. A year later and so much farther apart, she still just wants to kiss him. She did three months ago, too, and three years, and… 

And Syd is still here, watching her with equal parts amusement and concern. 

“How you doing there, bud? You gonna make it?”

She glares at him, but her voice is hesitant. “You are too, right?”

“Gay?” Syd chuckles. “Yeah. Extremely. That’s kind of why I asked you.”

Mike fidgets, ruffling at her hair. “Are you…”

Syd’s eyes understand, but he says, voice trembling, “Am I what?”

Her voice is awkwardly high as she finishes, “Asking me out?”

“I think so. Or at least, you know, gauging interest.” Mike looks at her feet. “But, given the intensely guilty look on your face, I’m gonna take a wild guess that the answer is no.”

She grimaces and nods. “I’m really sorry, I kind of just realized I’ve been in love with my best friend for,” she giggles, “a while.”

Syd shrugs and lets out a disappointed sigh. “That’s okay. Now I have two gay friends.” He leans forward with a grin. “How long is a while, exactly?”

“I’m not totally sure. I think since I was, I don’t know, ten?”

Syd blinks. “You’re almost fifteen, aren’t you?”

Mike grimaces. “Yeahhhhh.”

“And you’re _just_ figuring this—“

“Yeahhhhh.”

Syd breaks out in laughter, Mike following suit after half a second, a chorus of unbelieving glee. 

“Four _years?_ ” Syd chokes out. “Jeezly crow, I thought I was a mess!”

“Oh, you try living in Hawkins your whole life.”

He snorts. “I grew up in Kansas. You have no excuse!”

“How long have you known that you’re…” she shrugs, ”you know…”

“You can say gay.”

Mike winces. 

He sighs. “You don’t have to. I was uncomfortable around it for a while, too. But, probably two or three years? I don’t know, I had a major crush on Han Solo. Mostly _Return of the Jedi._ ”

Mike scoffs. “That’s such a basic first crush. At least have a thing for Luke!”

“What? No, Han Solo is way cuter. Have you seen him?”

“He’s so overrated! Get some taste!”

Sydney opens his mouth to retort, then closes it with a pointed exhale from his nose. “You’re deflecting.”

“What?”

“You’ve preyed on my love of arguing to distract me from the matter at hand: the fact that you’re hopelessly, desperately in love.”

She makes an offended squeak. “I am neither hopeless nor desperate.”

Syd lets out a harsh, “Ha!” Mike flips him off again. “You didn’t even know you were in love for four whole years. That is both hopeless and desperate.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“So, are you gonna tell him? I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s into guys, which is good, but I’m also pretty sure he’s into Joey, which is less good.”

Mike gives him a quizzical look. “What? They haven’t interacted in over a year.” Her eyes widen. “Wait, _Lucas_? It’s not Lucas.”

Syd grimaces. “Oh. I don’t know about Dustin. Didn’t you say he had a girlfriend?”

Mike shakes her head. “You’re really bad at this. It’s Will.” She quirks her head and smiles. “I think it’s always been Will.”

_They’re safe. Eleven’s alive and they’re okay and they’re together and…_

_And they’re kissing. And it’s… nice? It’s good. Right? Because kissing girls feels good and she cares about Eleven more than anything. And it’s kind of interesting. She’s not one to turn down affection, especially not from the person she was so scared was gone forever. Because she does_ love _Eleven._

_Maybe kissing is just overrated. That’s probably it. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, and it’s been a little exhilarating, if mostly in a “this is the first time and possibly the last time we’ll do this” kind of way, but somehow not what it’s cracked up to be._

_But she’s touching Eleven, and there’s solid skin under her fingers because Eleven isn’t dead, they’re not dead, and god, she’s missed this._

_It’s okay if there aren’t any fireworks. It’s okay if there isn’t that weird rush in the pit of her stomach she gets when she goes on a roller coaster, or watches Nancy’s trashy rom coms, or looks at Will._

_Why does it always end up back at Will? And why, when he’s off somewhere dancing with a girl like boys are supposed to, and Eleven is here in her arms, does Mike only want to find him?_

Syd thinks for a moment. “The one that moved a few months ago? To Maine or some Stephen King bullshit?” Mike nods. “I amend my earlier statement. It took you four years _and_ him moving halfway across the country to figure your shit out. That isn’t just hopeless and desperate, it’s _depressingly_ so.”

“Okay, I’m done telling you things. You’re the worst.”

He grins. “My specialty!”

“Wow, thanks.” She scowls. 

He shrugs and leans towards her, elbows on his knees. “So, what’s the deal with this Will you’re choosing over me? Are you gonna tell him?” Mike groans, but he continues. “Would he freak? Would he be cool? Would he tell everyone and ruin your life?”

“What? No! He wouldn’t do that!” 

“Okay, that’s an awfully defensive tone when _I’ve literally never met him_.”

“Still. Kind of a harsh statement on my taste in friends. And… you know… crushes.”

“You’re wearing khakis. My hopes for your taste aren’t high.”

“Not all of us have mascara and nail gloss at our disposal, Sydney Jackson Mills. Also, my khakis are fine, fuck off.”

Syd blinks. “Okay, lot to unpack there. One: my middle name is definitely not Jackson.”

She smirks. “Eh, it was a guess.”

“And a bad one. Two: your khakis are most definitely not fine, but I don’t have the energy to get into your impending prep school dropout look.”

Mike makes an offended noise. Syd wrinkles up his nose. “It’s true. But, third: is my mascara super obvious? I thought it was pretty subtle; I might be putting too much on.” He wipes at his eyes, leaving faint smudges beneath them. 

“No, it’s not obvious. I was just…” She falls silent and her cheeks warm, pink stark against her pale skin. 

Syd watches her shrink behind the table between them and fights a smile. “Go on.”

She clears her throat. “Weren’t we talking about Will?”

He laughs. “We were. You were telling me if you thought he’d be, well, cool.”

Mike stammers, “I— I don’t— I mean, how are you supposed to know these things? It’s not like he just said out of the blue, ‘Hey, Mike, I don’t mind you being a big old homo.’”

Syd snorts. “That’s us. Big old homos. But come on, you’re telling me he never gave you any clues? You knew the guy for four years.”

“Nine.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re hopeless. Okay, did he ever say shitty stuff about gay people around you? You know, make fun of the kid everyone thinks is queer?”

“Well, no. He was that kid.”

He smiles. “Now we’re getting somewhere! Who thought he was gay, and why?”

She furrows her eyebrows and leans back. “Is this necessary? It seems kind of, I don’t know, mean. This feels like a conversation my mom would have about Jackie Edwards.”

“Who?”

“The girl who beat her out for prom queen. There’s a rumor she was sleeping with the girl who counted votes.” She waves a hand dismissively. “It’s a whole thing.” Her voice is rhythmic, telling a story it knows without instruction. 

“It sure sounds like it.” Mike scoffs at his laughter. “But we’re not doing it to make fun of him. We’re trying to see if you should get your ass to Maine and propose.”

Mike chokes. “ _Propose_?”

“Hyperbole. Answer my question. Why do people think he’s gay, and who are these people?”

Mike narrows her eyes, but says, “I don’t know. The jerks at school. Their parents. Some of the teachers. His dad was a real piece of shit about it. His mom’s super cool, but I’m pretty sure she thinks he’s gay, in a thinly veiled supportive speeches kind of way.”

Syd snorts. “Joey’s been giving me those recently. It’s the best. He’s so not subtle.”

“Yeah, he can be pretty… abrupt.”

“Point is, your boy is absolutely gay. You should tell him.”

“You don’t know that! Just because his dad says—“

“Fine, fine, fine. Has he ever shown interest in a girl?”

“No. I mean, he danced with Lacey Dawson in eighth grade.”

_Eleven’s head rests on her shoulder as they spin around the bedazzled middle school gym. She scans the room to find her friends, Dustin dancing with her sister, which she at least thinks is kind of weird, Max and Lucas deep in conversation, and Will._

_It takes her a moment to find him in the crowd of taller people, but when she does…_

_When she does, he’s looking right at her. As their eyes meet, he ducks his head, melancholy smile turning artificial and wide as he says something to Lacey. Mike can’t stop herself from watching them a moment longer, something she can’t explain needing to know if he’s going to look back._

_He looks back. He looked back the night he disappeared, the night that perhaps she could have done something if she only hadn’t let him go._

_Why does it feel like she’s letting him go?_

Why did she let him go?

Syd hums. “That kinda counts. But you know, did he ever tell you about a crush he had or talk about cute girls or anything? You were friends for a while.”

Mike scans her memory desperately. “I guess not. Dustin and Lucas were always the ones talking about girls. Though…” She trails off. 

“What?”

“He definitely mentioned liking someone, but he wouldn’t tell me who it was.”

“Did he get super awkward and blushy when you asked about it?”

“He was like that whenever someone asked about that kind of stuff. It wasn’t specific to me. Stop reaching.”

“I am not _reaching_. Shut up and listen to the shit you’ve been saying. He’s absolutely into you.”

Her mouth opens to argue, face contorting in annoyance, and then freezes. Sinks. Melts into a shy smile and burning cheeks. “Do you really think so?”

He glowers at her. “No, I’ve been messing with you this whole time,” he deadpans, before an energetic, “No shit, I think he’s into you. And if you’re gonna blow me off because you’re into him and then not even ask him, I’m gonna be a little offended. Just a little.”

She laughs, eyes lit up with hope. “Okay. I’ll call him.”

“Hell, yeah!”

She looks up at him, unsure. “Would you mind staying with me? Just so I don’t chicken out?”

Syd grabs her hand. “Of course.”


End file.
